


The Mark of Continuation

by leoji_is_life (CynicalMistrust)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Referenced mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 01:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10149617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalMistrust/pseuds/leoji_is_life
Summary: When his tenth birthday came and went without a mark appearing, Phichit started questioning if he was one of those who would never have a soulmate. They weren’t exactly rare, at least not rare enough to be an anomaly, but from that point on, he had to wonder if there was something wrong with him. Why wouldn’t he have a soulmate? Was it because he’d cut his sister’s hair while she was sleeping?******His own face still tingled from Phichit insisting he needed his own “skincare routine,” something other than soap, “because that shit will ruin your skin.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at Seungchuchu and a soulmate AU... orz

When his tenth birthday came and went without a mark appearing, Phichit started questioning if he was one of those who would never have a soulmate. They weren’t exactly rare, at least not rare enough to be an anomaly, but from that point on, he had to wonder if there was something wrong with him. Why wouldn’t he have a soulmate? Was it because he’d cut his sister’s hair while she was sleeping?

 _Don’t worry_ , his mother used to tell him, _there are other ways to find your soulmate._

“Other ways” were rare, but sometimes a strong enough emotional or physical shock could substitute as the missing link. There were stories of people without a soulmate mark having near-death experiences and marks forming shortly after. Some believed the shock created a chemical or magical response in the body not present before, resulting in the dormant marks presenting themselves.

It wasn’t until he was fifteen that he learned how that worked. He’d just started drifting to sleep when he felt a tingling in his wrist. It quickly turned to a burning sensation that had him rushing to the bathroom, holding it under cold water as he watched dark splotches etch themselves into his flesh. When they were done and the pain faded, a semicolon was left behind, resting over the delicate veins in his wrist.

It took another year for him to find out what the mark meant. When he made it to the senior division and met Leo, the American caught sight of the mark and told him he was glad of his choice.

Learning that his soulmate had considered suicide, if not attempted it, chilled him. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone, let alone his soulmate, being so lost and alone that they’d try to kill themselves. He made extra efforts after that to always find the silver lining in every situation, to focus on the good, and especially to be _kind_. Not just by smiling at strangers or the like, but by making sure no one was left out. If the skaters made plans to grab lunch as a group during practice, he made sure everyone was invited to join.

He became hyper-aware of when people were quiet, especially after meeting Yuuri. Not that Yuuri ever gave off the vibe of despair enough to cross that line, but his tendency to overeat when stressed was just as dangerous.

At twenty-one, he started to wonder if he'd ever even meet his soulmate. His mark wasn't exactly one that could be used for a conversation starter. Sometimes he covered it with his concealer when it became too much of a weight, when the pressures of trying to keep up with pushing his training further, without damaging his body more than necessary, was enough that just the reminder that he nearly lost his soulmate without meeting them was more than he could handle. The guilt that accompanied it usually won in the end and he rubbed it off within a few hours though.

At least his soulmate was alive. That's what he told himself whenever he found himself absently rubbing his wrist, subconsciously trying to send good vibes to whoever wore the matching mark. He’d been doing that more often recently, especially during competitions, when he was caught up in the rush of adrenaline and good spirit, in the desire to do his best, for himself and for his country. It was a wonder he hadn’t rubbed a hole in his wrist by now, and as he found himself doing it again rather than paying attention to the others at the table, he forced his fingers to still.

Yuuri sat next to a progressively more-drunk Viktor, reaching over every few moments to keep him from removing his clothes. Phichit had to wonder how often that happened for him to be doing it on auto-pilot. His own liver twinged in sympathy for Viktor’s.

He glanced across from him to Leo and Guang-Hong, raising an eyebrow at the close press of their heads as they whispered, Leo’s hand resting on Guang-Hong’s on the table. Yuri and Otabek sat across from Yuuri and Viktor, and he could hear Yuri’s exaggerated gagging and complaining even from the other end of the table. He glanced to his side where Seung-gil sat, still surprised he’d even agreed to come, but he was actually relieved about it. Especially after Seung-gil and Michele had their annual argument over Seung-gil’s nonexistent affections for Sara. This year it’d nearly gotten physical.

Phichit looked away when Seung-gil shifted to look at him, cursing himself for being a coward at being caught staring.

“Oh! Phichit, remind me to give back your supplies.”

“What supplies?” he asked, looking at Guang-Hong, thankful for the distraction. Guang-Hong made a ‘ _you know_ ’ face as the flush across his nose darkened. “Oh, right. You can keep it if you want, I already replaced it.” Like he’d go more than a day without his concealer, highlighter, or eyeliner. He didn’t mind; Guang-Hong looked good in makeup, even without being dressed up in one of his costumes.

“What are you talking about?” Leo asked, looking between the two of them, which only made Guang-Hong squirm.

Phichit grinned. “Nothing bad. He borrowed some things for an event.” He raised an eyebrow as Guang-Hong groaned and buried his face in Leo’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you haven’t told him... You’ve been dating for almost a year.” Guang-Hong _flipped him the finger_ and he snickered. “Leo, you’re a bad influence on him.”

“I am not! Babe, what the hell, you’re keeping secrets from me?” Leo asked, voice teasing and petulant at the same time.

“Noooooooo...?”

“That’s convincing.” Phichit smirked as they both glared at him, holding his hands up in surrender and sitting back as the food arrived. “I’m serious though, keep it. It’s not like you won’t need it again.” He dug into his rice before reaching across the table for the soy sauce, jumping as Seung-gil dropped his cup of tea, spilling it across the table and into both their laps.

Seung-gil let out a string of curses in Korean as he shoved his chair back, nearly knocking over the table as he stood and stalked towards the bathroom.

Phichit snagged more napkins to pat down his lap as Leo and Guang-Hong mopped up the table, staring down the hallway where Seung-gil disappeared.

“What was that all about?” Leo asked.

“Maybe he just really had to go to the bathroom,” Guang-Hong murmured.

Phichit helped clear up the table, finding his eyes straying back towards the hall as the others went back to their food. When Seung-gil hadn’t returned nearly ten minutes later, he excused himself and went to find him, hoping he hadn’t escaped out the back door out of embarrassment.

He pushed open the door to the bathroom, pausing as he spotted Seung-gil, hands curled into fists and braced on the sink counter. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping inside just far enough the door swung shut behind him. He wasn’t sure what he expected - Seung-gil to snarl at him maybe, or brush him off - but he certainly wasn’t prepared for that dark, intense stare to be leveled right at him _._

“Your wrist.”

Phichit blinked. “My-?” He glanced down, tensing as he realized Seung-gil must have seen his mark when he reached for the soy sauce. “Ah. It’s my mark, I didn’t...” He trailed off as Seung-gil stalked towards him, pulling up the sleeve of his Korean Team jacket. Seung-gil’s wrist had the same mark, the same semicolon, placed in the exact same place as Phichit’s. He stared at it in confusion before it started to sink in that... he was standing in front of his soulmate?

 _Seung-gil_ was his _soulmate?!_

“Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Seung-gil took a step closer without lowering his wrist.

He swallowed, taking an instinctive step back, right into the wall. “Uh. What-what do people usually say when they find their soulmate?” Surely not many had been backed into a bathroom wall upon meeting. Well... maybe they had, but they likely had far _different_ things on their mind than wondering why their soulmate looked about ready to bite their head off.

“I don’t know.” Seung-gil raised an eyebrow, stepping closer and lifting his arms to box Phichit’s head in. “Maybe staking their claim.”

Phichit’s eyes widened and whatever sound he made was definitely _never_ happening again. This was not happening. There was no way _this_ was how he was meeting his soulmate. “Our food is getting cold,” he said lamely, blinking as Seung-gil almost looked disappointed before he most definitely looked angry and jerked back. He reached out instinctively, catching Seung-gil’s wrist and shivering as his felt the moment his thumb brushed the mark. A strange tingle of warmth traveled up his arm, his own mark pulsing in response before the sensations faded. “Can we talk after lunch? In private? Somewhere not a bathroom?”

Seung-gil stared at the fingers on his wrist a long moment, shoulders tense and expression tight, but he nodded before pulling away.

They rejoined the others at the table and Phichit ignored Leo’s and Guang-Hong’s questioning looks while Seung-gil ignored everyone. The food had gone cold, but he choked down enough he could last until dinner. As they finished up and paid, he felt Leo’s arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, tell me what Guang-Hong is keeping secret,” he whispered.

Phichit snorted and elbowed him in the gut, tossing his bag over his other shoulder. “No way. I’m offended you’d even ask.”

“I’m offended he’s keeping secrets.”

“Like you don’t have secrets? Have you told him how you love being tied u-mmph!” He grinned behind Leo’s hand as it clamped over his mouth before licking it, laughing as Leo pulled away with a grimace. “I’ll tell him for you, if you’d like.”

“Ugh. You’re a shit.”

“Right back at-cha, sweetheart.” Phichit wiggled his fingers in farewell as they made their way outside.

“You’re not coming back to the rink?” Guang-Hong asked.

He glanced down the sidewalk where Seung-gil lingered and shook his head. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at warm up.”

Seung-gil eyed him as he caught up and they headed the short few blocks to the hotel in silence. It was almost stifling, and with the shock wearing off, he didn’t even know where to start with the questions. They hardly knew each other, hadn’t interacted much outside of the few competitions they’d both been present at the past couple years. The most pressing question, the one that had weighed on him for the past six years, was the one he knew he couldn’t ask. At least not yet.

They rode the elevator up to the fifteenth floor and to Seung-gil’s room. “So. You’re really my soulmate.” Now what? He’d imagined meeting his soulmate countless times since he was old enough to understand what one was. Even in that agonizing period after he was ten, he’d imagined meeting someone he got along with well enough to spend the rest of his life with them, mark or no mark. That all changed when his mark finally appeared. The dreams shifted to him wrapping himself around his soulmate and smothering them in love and reassuring them everything was okay.

Somehow, he doubted Seung-gil would appreciate that, but the urge was still there and he found himself acting on it. He reached out, taking Seung-gil’s hand. “Now what?” he asked softly, glancing up to meet Seung-gil’s gaze.

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

Talk. Right. They should probably do that. So why was it that all he really wanted to do was see how well their lips fit together? Better yet, see how well their _bodies_ fit together, and that was enough to derail _that_ train of thought. For a moment anyway. “I’m not sure what to talk about.”

Something like a sneer touched Seung-gil’s face as he pulled his hand away. “What do you talk to your _friends_ about?” He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the end of the bed before sitting.

Phichit didn’t miss the emphasis, or the hint of a bitter tone. “Lately? Their relationship, mostly,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. He leaned back against the dresser across from Seung-gil, gripping the edge to keep from fidgeting. He didn’t resent them for it, he was happy they’d found each other; still remembered Guang-Hong’s ecstatic screaming when he’d seen Leo’s mark. “What do you do in your free time?”

“What free time?”

Seung-gil looked so utterly serious with his response, Phichit couldn’t help but laugh. The bewildered, annoyed expression he got in response only made him laugh harder, until he was doubled over and wiping away tears. He wasn’t even sure _why_ he was laughing, but it was definitely a relief, and he felt the weird atmosphere between them pop like a bubble. Or maybe he was slipping from shock into elation.

“Are you always such an idiot?”

He straightened and pushed off the dresser, dabbing at an eye. “Yup.” He stopped in front of Seung-gil, tilting his head as dark eyes looked up at him. “Are you always so serious?”

“Yes.”

Phichit chuckled again as Seung-gil answered so _seriously_ , going quiet and glancing down as warm fingers touched his. That... felt really nice. It felt even better when his flexed his fingers, threading them through Seung-gil’s. “So...”

“So, you’re mine,” Seung-gil murmured.

He caught Seung-gil’s gaze and raised an eyebrow, turning to sit across his lap. “Yours?” He tilted his head, eyes flicking to Seung-gil’s lips and staring as he realized how kissable they looked. Why had he never noticed before? “Does that make you mine, too?”

“I suppose.”

Phichit glanced back up when Seung-gil didn’t exactly sound thrilled about that. “...Do you regret me being your soulmate?” he asked softly. “I mean we could just... be friends, if that’s what you want.”

Seung-gil stared at him in silence long enough he was afraid the answer to that would be to pretend like this never happened and go back to being just competitors.

He looked away with a faint smile, releasing Seung-gil’s hand. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. It wasn’t like matching marks meant soulmates were guaranteed to live happily every after. He pushed to his feet, only to find an arm hooking around his waist to hold him in place.

“No.” Seung-gil let out a shuddering breath before whispering, “No.”

Phichit curled his fingers around Seung-gil’s wrist, somehow knowing those were answers to his questions. “Okay.” He leaned into Seung-gil as he threaded their fingers together again. “Can I kiss you?” He felt the tension his question brought and kept his mouth shut as he waited for an actual answer.

Seung-gil’s forehead rested against Phichit’s temple as he let out a breath. “Okay.”

Phichit smiled and kept still, shivering as warm breath caressed his ear and cheek. He squeezed the fingers between his own and tilted his head a slow inch at a time, stifling a laugh as their noses rubbed against each other. He stopped with their lips barely touching, breaths mingling as he glanced up to find Seung-gil staring at him again. He brushed their lips together, warmth creeping up his neck as they stared at each other. Why was Seung-gil staring? Didn’t he know he should close his eyes?

He slipped his tongue out and blinked as Seung-gil pulled back. Who would have thought his soulmate would be so skittish? He bumped his nose against Seung-gil’s again. “Should we hold off on doing that again?”

Seung-gil’s fingers tightened around his and Phichit caught several emotions flickering in his eyes though Seung-gil’s expression hardly changed. “You don’t have to.”

“Okay.” He pressed a light kiss to the corner of Seung-gil’s lips before sliding off his lap. “Are you okay if I stay a while?” He kicked his shoes off when Seung-gil nodded, shrugging out of his jacket and crawling onto the bed. “Can we get comfortable?” He tugged at Seung-gil’s shirt, ignoring the grumble since Seung-gil kicked his own shoes off and slid back on the bed. It was going to take a while to learn to speak in silences and expressions, but he hadn’t found a challenge yet he couldn’t master when he put his mind to it. He tucked himself up against Seung-gil’s side as they settled against the pillows, reaching instinctively for his hand again.

He grinned as Seung-gil’s thumb found his mark and rubbed against it, entire body melting from the touch. He rested his cheek on Seung-gil’s shoulder, for once not feeling the need to fill the silence. Usually he kept the TV or music on as background noise, but he was content listening to Seung-gil’s breathing. If he focused hard enough, he could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath it.

“You’re not going to ask about the mark?” Seung-gil asked after several long minutes.

Phichit shrugged, pressing closer before he could stop himself, slipping his leg between Seung-gil’s. “Just because we know we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we have to divulge all our secrets tonight.”

Seung-gil snorted, moving Phichit’s hand up to rest on his chest instead, continuing to stroke at the mark as if out of habit. “What secrets are you hiding?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes.”

Phichit glanced up at Seung-gil, sure he’d never get used to such straightforward responses. “Mm, maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

“Maybe I’ll listen.”

Phichit laughed. “Oh you’re _sassy_. Who would have thought?”

Seung-gil raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t being sassy.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, ignoring the strange flutter in his chest for the moment. “I know.” He tugged Seung-gil’s hand closer and pressed a kiss to each fingertip and then the mark on his wrist, smiling as he heard the sharp intake of breath when he lingered. He felt the warm tingling again, on his lips this time.

“You’re an idiot,” Seung-gil muttered.

Phichit raised an eyebrow, biting at a fingertip. “No, you are.”

Seung-gil grunted and tugged at his fingers, flicking Phichit’s lips when Phichit held on tight. “I am not.”

“Mmm, what are you then?” he asked, unable to resist nipping along a finger until he could press his lips to Seung-gil’s palm. He didn’t really expect an answer. He didn’t really need one either. This was... all he needed right then.

Anything more, or less, could come later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one... hit a bit close to home, and sorry, it went a bit angstier than I expected/intended, but I developed a Seung-gil muse who at least wanted his side told.

Seung-gil woke in the middle of the night to the sound of something clattering to the floor. He grunted and rolled onto his back, squinting in the low light as he woke up enough to notice the unfamiliar warmth next to him.

Right, Phichit. So whatever clattered to the floor was likely his phone. Idiot would be the first in line for implanted cameras and cyber communications. He snorted as he shifted onto his side, pushing onto his elbow to get a better look at him.

Phichit looked different when he was sleeping, less like some benevolent being, less ethereal and more approachable. More human. It had to be the makeup. Or lack thereof. Watching Phichit’s makeup routine was an event in itself, and he’d found himself fascinated as it came off layer after layer, seeing the slightly uneven skin tones beneath, the way his eyes seemed smaller without the eyeliner. And then all the _other_ stuff he put on after washing it clean. His own face still tingled from Phichit insisting he needed his own “skincare routine,” something other than soap, “because that shit will ruin your skin.”

That was another event in itself - letting someone touch him, much less touch his face. But Phichit had been so determined and focused, gentle as he smeared on strange smelling liquids and creams, and it’d been... nice. Even the awkward warmth and weight of Phichit sitting in his lap the entire time had been oddly comforting.

He shifted closer, reaching out to touch Phichit’s face, tracing over his cheekbone and down along his jaw. Phichit shifted in his sleep, turning towards him with a sigh, and he hesitantly continued, brushing his thumb along his cheek. Phichit made a face and turned away from the touch a moment before Seung-gil found himself with a Phichit-sized octopus wrapped around him, and it was like being attacked by Katsuki all over again. Except he couldn’t really bring himself to mind too much when it was Phichit. The warmth was nice, though it would be too much heat soon he was sure. Especially after the argument they’d had over the air conditioner. He always kept hotel rooms at the lowest setting of 60ºF. Phichit had made it a point to complain about how cold it was as often as possible, until Seung-gil finally relented and let him bump it up to 62.

When Phichit didn’t move away, still apparently sound asleep, he let out a slow breath and wrapped his arms around his waist. The pajama pants Phichit wore were _soft_ and fuzzy and it wasn’t until he’d rubbed his fingers against them a solid minute he realized he was essentially groping Phichit’s ass. Warmth crept up his neck as he moved his hands higher, and that was almost as bad since Phichit slept shirtless and he was caressing warm flesh without anything between them. Something like a choked growl escaped him as he lifted his hands away, but he didn’t exactly have anywhere else to put them and they ended up back around Phichit, resting on his lower back.

This was dangerous. If he let himself hold on, he’d never want to let go, and he couldn’t expect Phichit to put up with him for long. Phichit may have been marked as his soulmate, but he knew he was anything but an ideal one. Abrasive, cold, calculating. Phichit was everything he wasn’t, everything he’d longed for and given up hope of ever finding: Kind, bright, loved by everyone.

The entire premise of a soulmate was a load of crap anyway. He’d believed that from the moment he realized he’d never have a mark. It’d only been driven home further as soon as his parents began arranging a marriage for him. To a _woman_. No matter how much he protested he didn’t want to marry a woman, unless he had a soulmate mark they intended to have a _proper_ son. Even if they refused to be proper parents - left him on his own, berated him for ever being anything other than perfect and obedient, expected more out of him than should have ever been expected from a _child._

“Seung--?” Phichit murmured, half-asleep, nuzzling into his chest before tipping his head back. “Why’wake?”

Seung-gil stared at the dark eyes that shone black in the dark, glancing down at the soft lips and lifting his fingers to them on impulse. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured.

Phichit hummed, kissing his fingers before pressing closer, tightening his grip. “...Is this okay?”

Seung-gil let his fingers inch up into Phichit’s hair. “Yes.” He shivered as he felt Phichit smile against his neck as he pressed a kiss there. He closed his eyes as he listened to Phichit’s breathing, felt the steady gusts of air against his skin.

 _Dangerous_.

How could he ever hope to be what Phichit needed, what he deserved? The fact their marks hadn’t even appeared until... after he chose for the second time not to pull the trigger was proof enough of that. The first was when he was eleven, when his parents finally found a suitor despite his protests; the second after he met said suitor two weeks later and found how horrid she was. He hadn’t been worthy of a soulmate because he’d been weak enough to possibly end his own life. Just because he’d been enough of a coward not to go through with it didn’t change that. He didn’t deserve Phichit. He deserved him even less when he’d picked up his father’s pistol the third time when he was sixteen, after a year of his parents insisting his mark was fake, that if it was real it would have appeared when he was ten, that they couldn’t back out of the arrangement.

The only reason he wasn’t married now was because of his father walking in on him with the gun in his mouth. That was a month of his life he never wanted to relive, but even the annulment of the arranged marriage hadn’t stopped him from purchasing his own gun the moment he moved out, just in case. He kept it in beneath the false bottom of his nightstand drawer, though he hadn’t touched it in over a year. Focusing on his skating had helped; was the only thing that kept him sane, really. Which was why his entire life revolved around it these days. Why he had so little “free time.” He was constantly focused on his skating; if not improving his base scores or pushing his own limits, then studying other skaters’ routines and habits.

Phichit didn’t deserve to be drawn into the clusterfuck of his life. Didn’t deserve the weight of knowing the appearance of the mark had been one of the only things that saved him. Didn’t deserve to put up with his social ineptitude. He deserved someone who wouldn’t drag him down, who could have more than a two minute conversation, who enjoyed being surrounded by others as much as he did.

“You’re thinking about something.”

Seung-gil startled at Phichit’s soft voice in his ear. “You should be asleep.”

Phichit pulled back enough to plop his head on the pillow, yawning without loosening his grip. “Can’t. Your angsting is keeping me up.”

“...I’m not angsting.”

“Uh huh.” Phichit yawned again, squeezing his arms tighter. “Keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I’m not frowning.”

Phichit raised an eyebrow, blinking a few times with a faint smirk as the haze of sleep faded from his eyes. “You are.” He raised a hand and poked Seung-gil in the middle of his forehead. “Can see it right there.”

Seung-gil huffed and smacked at Phichit’s fingers, blinking as warm fingers curled around his wrist. He stared at Phichit as he tugged his trapped hand close enough to press his lips to. “You should be asleep,” he said again, because what the hell was he supposed to say? They hadn’t said much of anything the past three days, but they still ended up in Seung-gil’s hotel room after they were done for the day, curled up in silence until he grew antsy and guilty enough over not having anything interesting to talk about to turn on the TV, drowning his thoughts in whitenoise.

Like how good Phichit’s hair smelled after he washed it, or how good his _skin_ smelled. How good he looked without his makeup and the fact few likely ever saw him without it. How good he looked without a shirt, or how enthralling it was to just look at him when he wasn’t putting on a show for his camera or focusing his attention on a dozen different people. Seeing Phichit being _quiet_ and _still_ was a shock to his system, and part of him was amazed that _he_ got to see it. Even moreso that Phichit didn’t press for information or idle conversation, like he was actually content to just soak in each other’s presence.

“You’re doing it again,” Phichit murmured, smiling against Seung-gil’s palm. “What are you thinking about?"

“You.” The answer was out of his mouth before he could stop it and he mentally kicked himself.  
  
Phichit raised an eyebrow, his thumb rubbing back and forth against Seung-gil’s trapped fingers. “What about me?”

“...Everything.”

Phichit hummed and shifted his hold so their fingers were laced together, pressing closer until his nose was nearly buried in Seung-gil’s shoulder. “Like what?”

Seung-gil swallowed, his fingers twitching in Phichit’s grasp. “That I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, wishing he could take those words back the moment he said them. He didn’t want to bury Phichit in his baggage. A few more days and they’d be back in their respective countries, in their own homes, falling back into their own routines and habits like this never happened.

“...Because of this?” Phichi asked, voice almost swallowed by the darkness as his thumb brushed over the mark.

He flinched at the touch, pulling his hand free and shifting onto his back. Because of _everything_ , but he didn’t know how to explain that. How to convince Phichit he was better off without him.

Phichit was silent for several long moments, until he pressed closer, resting his cheek on Seung-gil’s shoulder. “I was so relieved when I got the mark,” he said, his voice still soft, as though he was afraid of speaking too loud. “Five years of wondering why I wasn’t good enough to have a soulmate, trying to figure out what was wrong with me, if maybe I was too loud or too intense for anyone to be able to love me... I didn’t even know what the mark symbolized until I met Leo and... then I was just so happy that whoever my soulmate was, they’d decided to live. That they’d made a choice that would let me meet them and maybe prove to them the world wasn’t such a terrible place.”

Seung-gil couldn’t quite stop the derisive snort even as he tried to ignore the tightness in his throat. “You deserve better.”

“Why?”

Seung-gil blinked, tilting his head to glance at Phichit from the corner of his eye. “Why not?”

Phichit shrugged, resting his hand on Seung-gil’s chest and picking at a spot on his shirt. “Just because you think you deserve worse? Everyone deserves someone who cares for them. And I’m not saying I care for you just because we share a mark. You caught my eye before, with your routines. You always look so _serious_.” His lips twitched and he pushed himself up on his elbow so he was looking down at Seung-gil. “I always thought I’d like to get to know you, find some way to make you smile and loosen up.”

“Why?”

Phichit snorted and rolled his eyes with an exaggerated groan. “Because someone who asks _why_ they should smile is in need of it most.” He stepped his fingers up Seung-gil’s chest and onto his chin, tapping at his lips. “Like I said. Keep frowning and you’ll get wrinkles. You don’t want to look like an old man before you’re even thirty do you? You’ll have to skate with a cane.”

Seung-gil narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth and biting at Phichit’s fingers. “So I’m ugly now.”

“Oh my god.” Phichit collapsed against Seung-gil’s chest as he broke down in laughter. “You can’t take everyone so seriously. You’ll get an ulcer.”

He huffed and tilted his head to press his nose into Phichit’s hair. “So I shouldn’t take anything you say at face value...”

Phichit shifted to rest his cheek on Seung-gil’s chest, throwing his arm over him with a soft hum. “Not when I’m teasing.”

Seung-gil wasn’t quite ready to ask how the hell he was supposed to tell when Phichit was teasing or not, but it seemed he didn’t have to.

“If it sounds like an insult and I’m grinning like a little shit, I’m teasing.”

“You’re always grinning like a little shit.”

Phichit laughed, lifting his head as he poked Seung-gil’s stomach. “See, you subconsciously don’t really mean that, so that’s _teasing_.”

He raised an eyebrow as a smirk tugged at his lips. Maybe he didn’t _entirely_ mean that...

Phichit leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, pulling back with a yawn. “Are you done angsting? I need my beauty sleep,” he murmured, curling into Seung-gil and tucking his head into his shoulder.

“I suppose.” He felt a little lighter, though he still wasn’t convinced this was going to work out. If Phichit was really intent on staying with him though... didn’t he owe it to himself to give it a try?


End file.
